


Post Script

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, First Times, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 10:11:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/797193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ummm. oh, I don't know! I don't want to give anything away :)  How about, there's some angst, but things turn out well?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Post Script

## Post Script

#### by Aouda Fogg

  
Not mine. Not making money, intending infringement, or any other bad stuff. Just playing.   
Originally written for Sentinel Thursday's Challenge #118: P.S. I love you.  
  


* * *

This wasn't so much a localized ache in his chest or a sinking feeling in his stomach as much as an absolute, all-encompassing pain he could feel everywhere. It was the dizzying burst of pain of someone who knew he'd left things too late. 

Standing against the pillar near the kitchen, he just let the sensation wash over him, not able to escape the feeling that this was nothing less than he deserved. The wood and plaster felt solid against his back and provided a weird contrast to the discombobulating pain. A large part of him just wanted to sink back into the wall, be absorbed by it. Maybe then he wouldn't feel anything. He'd been accused of that all too often; why not just make it a reality? 

He thought he'd had more time. He'd thought they'd been figuring things out, solidifying things, making sure. Oh, hell, he didn't know. No, scratch that. He did know; he'd just heard Blair Sandburg say the words he'd been craving, words he'd been too chickenshit to say first. But he'd just heard them come out of his partner's mouth. I love you. Too bad they'd been directed at someone else. 

* * *

Two Weeks Ago

* * *

The setting sun had turned the sky a deep, dark blue that made the buildings he could see through the windows stand black in the twilight. He really liked this time of day between day and night when people were coming home, settling in, and relaxing and the world was full of mostly happy noises and soft, shadowy light. Dinner was on the stove, they'd both changed into comfortable old sweats, and now they were flipping channels on the TV trying to find something less painful to watch than the latest Jag's game. 

His pleasure in the quiet evening and in sitting next to Blair on the couch, though, was interrupted by the phone. He didn't move; answering the phone in the evening was Sandburg's job. Distracted by the fact that Lindsay Wagner was hawking beds on TV, he didn't really tune into the first part of the call, the part where Sandburg established that he was, in fact, Blair Sandburg, Naomi's son. 

The loud clear joy in his partner's voice a moment later, however, dragged his attention away from the former Bionic Woman. 

"Oh, my god, Pen! Is it really you?" 

Jim could hear a cheerful female voice on the other end, but he always did his best not to invade his partner's privacy any more than he had to. So he dialed down, or maybe shifted his focus, once he was sure she wasn't a threat or that sneaky-ass reporter who hadn't quite given up even though it had been over a year. He didn't take his eyes off the man on this side of the phone, though. Couldn't look away was more like it, because Sandburg had suddenly started to vibrate with excitement. Or maybe it was glow. His heart rate shot up, and the scent Jim had tried to identify in his own mind and finally compromised as thinking of it as something like really good hot chocolate with cayenne -- sweet, yet earthy and full and spicy -- filled the space between them. All the signs that Blair Sandburg was very happy mixed together to create a force Jim couldn't have pulled his eyes from if he'd been being held at gunpoint. So he just watched and enjoyed, a small part of his brain partially aware that Blair was talking. 

"Wait, you mean you're in town? No way!" 

Pause. 

"Yeah, sure, of course. I'll be there in, oh, less than 20 minutes; I've just got to pull on a pair of jeans and I'm there!" 

Pause. 

Happy laughter. "I'm on my way, Pen!" 

After that, the glow was more of a blur. Jim watched, still too distracted by the sight before him to say anything, as his partner dashed into his room, came out moments later having changed into jeans and carrying his new jacket. Jim caught the words "sorry," "Penelope, but she goes by Pen," "friend, when I was a kid," "this is so great," and "back later." Then the only sound was the echo of the door and then the jangle of keys down near the elevator. The glow was gone. A large part of Jim's mind was left wondering why it had seemed to take all the light in the room with it. He took another swig of his beer and tried to be happy that a friend of Blair's wanted to see him. 

* * *

One Week Ago

* * *

His partner was still stuck in blur mode. Jim had really only seen him at the station and in the mornings as they got ready for work. They'd even been driving in separately because Blair was leaving directly from the station to go see this old friend from his childhood. 

Jim now knew that Pen made glass jewelry, was part of a group of people she had worked with for years -- many of whom Blair also knew -- and that she was in town for a large artisan fair the Cascade Folk Art Museum was putting on this month. He _assumed_ she had long, black hair because Sandburg kept coming home with strands of it all over his clothes. Blair had invited him to come a few times, but Jim hadn't wanted to intrude. He couldn't decide if that was a good decision or not. 

Tonight, Blair had tried several times to go to dinner with them, but the part of Jim that didn't want to -- couldn't -- meet Pen won out, so here he was, Chinese take-out in hand, looking around the empty loft. He tossed the food in the fridge and just went upstairs to bed. 

* * *

Tonight

* * *

Blair was actually home for a change. Of course, he was on the phone with Pen at the moment, but she was apparently on her way out of town. Unfortunately, she was coming back for the closing weekend of the fair. Jim just wished she'd go away so he could have his partner back. He winced at the petty feelings rushing through him; he knew he'd been pretty snappish with Blair the last few days, and that he'd hurt the younger man's feelings. Bowing his head over his beer bottle as he leaned against the pillar, he vowed to make it up to his partner; maybe they could head up to -- 

But then, a quiet, slightly husky laugh pulled him away from the thought -- 

"Yeah, I'm going to miss you, too. But we'll see each other in a couple weeks. Uh, huh. Yeah, me, too. P.S. I love you." 

Standing there, stuck in the pain, Jim never heard Blair hang up the phone, nor did he hear Blair's gasp of surprise, or even the shorter man moving towards him. 

The touch of Blair's warm hand against his chest made him flinch. 

"Jim? Hey, man, you ok? You've gone all white. Is it your sense--" 

Jim slid away from the warmth of that hand and the solidity of the pillar against his back and put the beer bottle on the table with slow deliberation. Then he turned around and faced reality. He tried to smile, but it felt more like a grimace than anything. 

"I, ah, I hope you'll be really happy, Chief. I'm gonna head up." 

"Uh, thanks, I guess, but are you sure you're ok?" 

This time Jim's smile was a bit more real; at least Blair was still a little concerned about him. "Yeah." 

Blair looked skeptical, but he seemed to accept when Jim said. "Ok, then you want to tell me what I'm supposed to be really happy about?" 

Jim paused at the base of the stairs. The confusion on Blair's face confused him. His partner wasn't usually this obtuse. 

"Uh, gee, Chief, about you and Pen?" 

"What about me and Pen?" 

A spike of anger pushed the words out. "You're the one who said you loved her. So, I'm, you know," he waved his arm wildly. "Gla-glad you found someone to love." The words felt like they'd torn the back of his throat as he said them, but at least he'd had the balls to congratulate Blair, even if he wanted to grab him, run for the hills, and never let him go. 

He'd gotten halfway up the stairs when Blair spoke again. 

"Ah, Jim? I'm not sure what, I mean, yeah, I said `I love you,' but that was in a `you're a great part of my childhood, I loved seeing you, you were like an aunt to me, have fun seeing your husband,' kind of thing." 

Jim froze on the stairs. Slowly turning around, he saw that Blair had moved closer and was looking up at him, his expression curious and confused, from the base of the stairs. "What?" 

"Pen is a friend of my mom's, Jim. We used to stay with her when we were in Oregon." 

"But, you said P.S--" 

"Yeah, that's an old thing with us." He made a gesture that was characteristically Blair when he said `thing.' "See, we were staying with her when I was like, seven, and I was reading _The Fellowship of the Ring_ for the first time, you know? And I'd just finished _The Hobbit,_ and Gandalf was my favorite. So, I got to the part where he writes the letter to Frodo, you know, the one Barleyman doesn't deliver?" 

"Uh, sure." 

"Right. So, at the end, Gandalf adds all these postscripts, which I thought was just the coolest thing in the history of the world. I started writing notes to everyone where the whole point was me just adding P.S.s. And then I figured out that Pen's initials -- Penelope Sakorski -- were P.S. and I was so excited! And it turned out she'd always liked it, too, so it became like a secret joke between us, you know? We always ended our conversations like that -- P.S. I love you, B.S. I love you." 

"Oh." Jim could feel himself blinking, but he wasn't sure what else. 

"Uh, huh." 

"So, you aren't--" He skidded to a stop, not sure if he wanted to really commit himself just in case there was some chance he'd misunderstood. 

"I'm not." 

His Guided sounded pretty definite. "Oh." 

"Uh, huh." 

"Oh." 

"Is that all you're going to say? Because, I've got to tell you, Jim, this has been a pretty interesting couple minutes here. Am I, uh, and I hope I'm not, because this is really important and I really don't want to be wrong, because this could be so great, really, really great, so I hope--," 

"Breathe, Chief." 

"Talk to me, Jim." 

Jim was pretty sure he floated down the step because he suddenly found himself standing right in front of Blair, so close, in fact, that their chests were almost touching. He heard Blair's breath catch at the proximity and felt the answering feeling all the way through his body. "You're not wrong. I want to be the person you're saying I love you to." 

"And?" 

Suddenly awash in the scent of a happy Blair, Jim sucked in a deep breath and let the words go. "And I love you. I want to be the person to say those words to you." 

"And I want to hear them, man; I so want to hear them." 

The next moment, they both closed the millimeters of space between them. Arms wrapped around backs, legs shifted so bodies could fit more closely together, and both just held on for long moments. Finally, Jim drew back. Taking a moment to run a finger over Blair's lips, he absorbed the feel of those soft lips, learning it, knowing it. The sensation got even better when Blair pressed a kiss against the pad of his finger and then reached up and pulled their faces together. 

The kiss swamped him. Rather than struggle against the waves of input, however, Jim let go for once. This was Blair. He was safe. Casting his senses out, he just opened himself up, let himself savor the taste of Blair beneath his lips: sweet and spicy and earthy all at the same time. 

Sinking his fingers into his guide's hair, he deepened this kiss; Blair countered every move with one of his own. Hands pulled at shirts; Jim found skin, and then he felt Blair's fingers dipping below his waistline. Fleetingly blessing his intelligence in not wearing a belt today, Jim turned them, pressed Blair against the wall, and leaned in. The pressure made everything better. Especially when Blair pushed back. 

Suddenly their kisses grew frantic, and one of them groaned, but it didn't matter which since the sound vibrated though them both. Heat exploding all over his body, Jim ground himself around Blair and felt answering desperation in Blair's kiss and in the clutch of fingers on his back. He pushed harder, wanting to feel everything, to sink into this hot, firm body. The rush of sensation expanded until it was everything in the world. Unable to stop it, and not really wanting to, Jim threw back his head, and with a final thrust, he exploded against Blair, hearing his own voice groan, "Chief, love you." Blair's hips pushed back, meeting him in a counterpoint that sent even deeper shudders through him, and they both just held on as they exploded. 

Somehow they were still standing, which was just fine with Jim; he never wanted to let go. 

Finally, Blair spoke in a rather hoarse voice. "I haven't come in my pants since I was fourteen." 

Jim summoned the energy to pull his head from the shoulder it had been resting on. "I've never come in my pants." The smile that broke across Blair's face and shone in his eyes made Jim smile back. "What?" 

"I like the idea of having firsts with you." 

"Baby, you're a first in so many ways, I can't even tell you." 

Blair grinned again. Jim figured it wouldn't take him any time at all to get used to being this up-close and personal to them. 

"Baby, huh?" 

Afraid he had misstepped, Jim tried to retrench. "Sorry, I won't--" Fingers across his lips cut off the words. 

"No, Jim, it's good. I like it. I like getting a new nickname when we start a new phase. Darwin when I started with riding with you, Chief once you accepted me a little more, and now this. Been a while since I had a new one." 

"Well, you're keeping this one for a long time if I have anything to say about it." 

"Oh, I think you do. In fact, what do you say we get rid of these pants, head on upstairs, and discuss that and anything else that might come up." Blair must've been able to see the mix of amusement and dismay at the fact that he wanted to talk in Jim's face because he stretched up and kissed the taller man hard, and then softened the kiss into something lingering. "By `discuss that,' I was thinking maybe some hands on discussion, you know, a practicum of sorts." 

Jim liked the sound of that. "This the kind of discussion you can have naked?" 

"Works best that way." 

"Sounds like my kind of discussion." 

"Mmm, me, too, babe, me, too. And I think it's only right to tell you I intend to make this discussion last a long as possible and to include me licking every single part of you." 

"Definitely my kind of discussion." 

"Think we could bring this discussion around to you coming inside me?" 

Wondering how many surges of heat his body could take before it spontaneously combusted, Jim just nodded. He was able to go so far as to nod emphatically. 

Chuckling softly, Blair pulled him upstairs. 

* * *

The Next Morning

* * *

Waking up awash in warm blankets and the scent of Blair made Jim smile before he even open his eyes. Discovering there was actually no Blair made him frown a moment later, but then he saw the note on the pillow next to him. 

_Jim --_

_Felt the need of sustenance. Gone to lay in provisions. Just a preview? These provisions will include almond croissants. Back soon, B._

_P.S. I love you_  
 _P.P.S. The initials in the above addendum stands for Post Script, not Pizza Survival, Pearly Sand-dabs, Pidgin Sanskrit or anything else._ _P.P.P.S. Gandalf rocks._  
 _P.P.P.P.S. When I get back, it's my turn._

This wasn't so much a generalized ache as a complete, all-encompassing joy that made it feel like every part of his body was shining. He sat there in what was now _their_ bed, grinning, and laughed -- because he'd ranked the final word after a mention of Gandalf. Blair Sandburg really must love him. Which worked out well, really. He was still grinning a few minutes later when his partner returned, armed with provisions that did, in fact, include his favorite croissants. Tearing off a piece of one and feeding it to Blair, Jim realized that the glow was back, that his lover was nearly vibrating with happiness, and this time it was directed all at him. 

* * *

End Post Script by Aouda Fogg: aoudafogg@yahoo.com  
Author and story notes above.

  
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